


Event Horizon of Emotional Repression

by Prociions



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Betazoid Hypnos, Half Vulcan Zagreus, M/M, This is, im a little sorry, please blame the collective bargaining power of brainworms, so fucking niche, sometimes ur a little emotionally repressed bastard and a little even more bastardous betazoid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28842651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prociions/pseuds/Prociions
Summary: Zagreus thought he had contented himself with being the worst half-Vulcan alive. Well acquainted with the ignoble emotions of anger, worry and disdain towards ones father.When his new post finds him reassigned next to Hypnos - a rather chatty empath that wont stop providing detailed recounts of his every emotion - he finds that he might have to reconsider the exhaustiveness of the list re: what his mixed parentage might doom him to feel.
Relationships: Hypnos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have very little blame in this except for technically getting to shoulder most of it when we get down to brass tacks. My legacy will be forged purely from extremely niche au content, and i think i'm making my peace with that. Enjoy? even you aren't S? I guess???

The station was barely visible under the constant traffic of arriving and departing ships; crawling over its derelict frame like flies on a carcass. Much like everything else in remote sectors, the UN-V01 was a relic from another time. Patched together with spit and hope for as long as the federation felt that it would hold. Zagreus watched it draw closer from the window of their transport, each new inch of it looking uglier than the last.

Achilles manifested behind him, quiet as a shadow; laying a steady hand on his shoulder and nearly making him jump from surprise. “Can’t blame you for looking rather grim lad, your father promised he would be waiting for you when we arrived; and he likely won't be too pleased.” His mentor didn’t bother to hide the wry twist to his mouth at that understatement.

“I could count on one hand the amount of times father has been pleased in the last decade,” Zagreus drawled, still peering anxiously at the station as it loomed closer and closer in the distance. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m not sufficiently threatened by that inevitable outcome.”

“I know I took the most reasonable course of action, if father can’t see it; that’s his prerogative.” Zagreus said dispassionately. These were facts. Facts likely to be disputed by Hades, but facts nonetheless. There was no need to be nervous, or filled with doubt. This was logic, regardless of whether they agreed with him or not; and logic did not lie.

Achilles, let out a small sigh, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze before drawing back; standing perfectly at attention, his weathered, human features smooth and serene as any Vulcan. Zagreus did his best to copy him, as he had done countless times before, willing himself to enter into a meditative state of mind. One where his brow would not wrinkle with contempt or confusion; measured, emotionless, appropriate.

The closer they came, the less he succeeded. He hastily forced a grimace off his face as their shuttle docked and the rest of the passengers prepared to disembark. He and Achilles waited until everyone else had departed; the traders, the tourists, the pilgrims. The human child that had stared curiously at them for most of their trip; babbling and waving goodbye with one chunky little fist clasped around Zagreus’ laurel wreath.

The baby had snatched it in the last section of their trip, when the mother had walked perilously close to where they had sat. It’s little hand happily shoving the esteemed symbol of the house of Hades into their gummy mouth and drooling all over it. Zagreus’ hadn’t had the heart to ask for it back, despite the mother’s frantic apologies. The infant clearly had some fascinating ideas about the correct use of family heirlooms and the proper level of decorum that should be given to them.

Zagreus was certain his father would not share the baby’s views.

“Let us get my lecture over with Achilles. That way we may move onto the more pleasant reasons for our stay here, at least on your end.” Zagreus didn’t bother to hide his polite smile from Achilles, just as Achilles didn’t bother to hide the tender warmth that crept over his expression.

“I won’t object if you don’t Zagreus. Hard to believe we’re really here, and yet-“ Achilles trailed off. His normally unflappable mentor seemed caught between terror and delight. As if he would wake up at any moment and find that the last several days had been nothing but a cruel dream, no matter how often Zagreus assured him such an outcome would make no logical sense. Their course had been set for weeks now, anything else would have been highly improbable.

“Father has kept you away from Patroclus long enough. If there is one thing that I will never regret, it’s that my actions had this consequence. No matter how disappointed he is, he cannot take that away from me.” Zagreus said softly, gathering luggage and his courage, as he headed out of their transport ship, into the station.

They passed into entrance to the UN-V01, steel catwalk of rusted hinges and squeaking supports. The underworld, as locals called it. One of the last refueling stations for entire parsecs, a minor trading hub surrounded by three black holes and yawning nothingness.

It’s captain waited for them at the dock; the crowds in his vicinity parted like oil touching water, flowing around him with the utmost care to never touch. His imposing stature towered above them all, staring sternly down at Zagreus the moment he entered the room.

Hades, recently ‘promoted’ to lead the illustrious rust-bucket of a station that was the Underworld, had graduated from the Academy top of his class. Quickly rising among the ranks with a speed astronomic even for a Vulcan. His many commendations sat pinned to his chest, contrasting sharply with the squalor of his post.

“Hello father, I see you are gracing the corridors with your full regalia once more. I’m sure the crew feel suitably wowed to have your legendary expertise aboard.” Zagreus stood before Hades; making it a point to not move to greet him or provide a proper salute.

“You will address me with respect, boy.” His father intoned, the lines of his brow smooth and unmoving, but still managing to look like a frown. “You are fortunate that your transgressions caused no real harm. As it is, your foolish and ill-thought out actions have only served to earn you a punishment of unexpected leniency. It seems I cannot entrust the task of keeping you contained to anyone else,” Hades leveled his stern glare at Achilles, who stared back at him without any trace of fear or discomfort.“You have been relocated here until further notice, and reassigned to assist those in shipping and receiving. There will be no travel privileges for the foreseeable future.”

Zagreus ignored the simmering anger that ebbed and swelled with each new word, forcing his tone to remain even and unaffected. “I believe you had made that abundantly clear in your message father. I cannot help but find it inefficient to go over what we both already know.” Zagreus intently watched Hades’ face, hoping for a twitch, a tell, some sign of irritation.

He found none. Hades looked down at him as if he were nothing more than a speck of dust on his data pad; an inconvenience so unimpressive he could not be bothered to waste any time or effort on it.

“Nyx will collect you shortly, she will show you to your quarters and guide you to your new workspace, should you be unable to locate it on your own.” Hades had barely finished his declaration before he swept away, throwing one last barb over his shoulder. His father’s cape and laurels were swallowed up by the throng, a burgundy spec in the horizon.

Belatedly, Zagreus realized that there had been no comments about his missing headpiece, still likely clutched in that Baby’s chubby fist, somewhere around the concourse. He doubted his father had overlooked that detail; and was simply waiting for the worst possible time to bring it up.

“Well, that went better than expected at least. The Lady Nyx will surely be along shortly, and then you will have at least one friendly face to greet you.” Achilles’ professional demeanor thawed the moment his employer had left, giving Zagreus an encouraging smile.

Zagreus nodded, not trusting his voice to betray him after such an encounter. Achilles busied himself with his communicator, likely sending Patroclus confirmation that he had arrived safe and sound; leaving Zagreus to his thoughts.

He closed his eyes, creating a visualization in his mind the way his tutors had taught him to; the still surface of water, devoid of any movement. He focused on it intently, purging himself of anger, of all other emotion, the latent lingering insecurity that the exercise had been needed in the first place. He had never been particularly _successful_ at purging himself of all emotion, but it would be the easiest course of action to conform to his father’s expectations, for the first couple of days at least.

“Achilles,” Zagreus called softly, once he had completed the brief meditation. “Knowing father, Nyx is likely to have been given several tasks. I think it would be more sensible to go to Patroclus’ clinic and wait for her there. He could at the very least contact her for us. This way we wouldn’t be taking up space in the concourse.”

And this way, Zagreus knew, Achilles could see his husband - who he had been separated from for several years at this point - without any overly pedantic captains accusing him of shirking his duties. They rushed out of the concourse, following the signs for the medbay. Achilles walked with more purpose Zagreus had ever seen in him before, deftly weaving through the crowds towards his goal.

His mentor had told him about Patroclus, brief snippets of information that Achilles had been reluctant to provide in the first place. Even Zagreus, raised among Vulcans for most of his life, could identify the grief in his voice at their parting. A complex and unfortunate tale that had forced him into Hades’ service in exchange for his husband’s safety.

Achilles had not mentioned for how many years they had been parted, other than they were higher in number than he cared for. Zagreus did not know what to expect at their reunion, other than the certainty that he would be pleased for Achilles no matter the outcome. How _did_ humans face each other after being separated?

Zagreus had only experienced a situation like this once, and it had ended in tears. Tears, and his unfortunate relocation to the underworld, reporting up to his father once more.

When Achilles crossed the threshold to the clinic, there was no crying. Only the quiet exhalation of breath as Patroclus spotted them, hastily putting down his tricorder before rushing to Achilles’s side. They collided gently; folding into each other in an intricate dance of shifting limbs and clasped hands, pressing their foreheads together.

Zagreus did his best to give them privacy, shuffling off to put his things down in an unoccupied corner of the room, trying to ignore the warmth rushing to his face. He was quite certain he had failed, catching sight of his reflection in a nearby window, cast in an undeniable green tinge.

Behind himself, he could see Achilles and Patroclus still pressed together, both their faces reflecting an expression he could not parse. Zagreus drank the sight of them in for one more, guilty second, before wrenching his eyes away, and busying himself with inspecting the tricorders arranged neatly on a nearby desk.

He tried not to think about effusive human liberties. That memory, only weeks old still, of how warm their hands were. He failed quite miserably.

Zagreus, only pretending to be absorbed in his task in order to give his mentor some measure of privacy, heard the tell tale tread of Nyx before he saw her arrive. Clearing his throat loudly so Patroclus and Achilles would have time to separate. Nyx swept in a mere second later, in all her splendor.

The Nyx symbiont had worked with Hades for several years now, in many forms and various bodies, though the current host was the only one that Zagreus had ever known. A strikingly tall betazoid woman, with eyes as black as the inky darkness outside of every porthole. “Hello my child,” She greeted, her serene voice instantly setting him at ease, despite the new tension that now lay between them.

“Mother Nyx,” Zagreus returned curtly, bowing his head in respectful greeting. “I trust you are doing well.”

“I am gladdened by your presence, if nothing else,” She said, the coolness of her tone tempered by a slight smile. Before turning her attentions towards Achilles, once again a mask of indifference. “Achilles, I see you have arrived safely as well. I assume you will have no objections to my borrowing young Zagreus for the remainder of this evening. I am sure Patroclus can inform you of the layout of the facilities himself.”

“Of course Madame Nyx,” Achilles jerked limply, like a puppet with its strings cut. Trying to stand at attention, but finding that Patroclus - returning Nyx’s equally cool stare - was unwilling to release him from his grasp.

“Excellent, come child. I will show you to your quarters, and your new assignment. Walk with me, for we have much to discuss.” Nyx lingered in the doorway as Zagreus gathered his things, waving a quick goodbye to Achilles, still firmly ensconced in Patroclus’ arms. Her cool hand pressed against his shoulder in a brief touch, directing him down a mostly empty side corridor, further away from prying ears.

“I take it your endeavor was successful.” She began, still resolutely walking forward down the maze of corridors, not bothering to turn back towards Zagreus for the conversation. “Yes, I found my mother.” He said curtly, the force of all he wanted to ask pressing down upon him all at once. “Why didn’t you tell me she was human?” He ground out, something hot and resentful bubbling in the back of his mind. All that which he had never been able to meditate away, for once crucial reason.

Nyx sighed heavily, looking mildly unsettled for the first time in Zagreus’ memory. “It was not my place to say child. Your father forbade us from speaking of her overmuch. I agreed to his request based on our years of respectful collaboration.” Zagreus scoffed, rolling his eyes as he trailed behind Nyx, knowing no one could see. “You would think father would have delighted in letting everyone know I’ve been a failure of good Vulcan breeding my entire life. Instead of letting them think he’d produced an aberration of society purely on my own merit.”

Nyx’s smooth brow curled into a frown as she ushered them into a non nondescript doorway in the bowels of the station. Zagreus’ new home for the foreseeable future. She provided Zagreus with the keypad code and watched him place his luggage down in complete silence, waiting until the door was closed to continue speaking. “You are not an aberration child.”

“Perhaps not, but surely you can deduce how it must have seemed I was one. Afflicted by the dregs of emotion, only to find out that it was through no fault of my own.” Zagreus turned away from Nyx, facing the lone porthole in his new quarters. Feigning interest in the black hole he could see from the window; rather than letting Nyx witness how he could barely manage to control his expression when discussing this topic.

“You reveal my mother is still living, I slip from father’s grasp to go visit her in those coordinates. And what do I find there but a human woman, nearly unaware of my existence.” He recounted the events dryly, factually. Suppressing the itch in his throat whenever he recalled the sight of her there. How Persephone had let her basket of produce tumble to the ground as she had gathered Zagreus into her embrace. Weeping into his shoulder.

Her warm hands had cupped his face, as if the most precious thing in the world. She had smelled of mint and freshly cut grass, nothing like the sterile, recycled air of ships he had spent most of his life aboard. Persephone stood in contrast against everything he had ever known, much like Zagreus himself had, despite any desperate attempts to conform.

“Again, I would have thought father would have been happy to explain away his dismal progeny had due cause. Instead he seeks to punish me for daring to find the truth, and reassigns me here.” He intoned bitterly, remembering the well worn echo of his father’s disappointment with perfect clarity. Hades had wasted no time in letting Zagreus know over the years how he could stand to apply himself to his studies more diligently. Meditate more intensely, purge himself of emotion and childish sentiment in a way befitting the Vulcan ideal. Zagreus had chafed against that ideal his entire life, not knowing the race had been over before it had even begun, due to mere genetics.

“I cannot speak for your fathers choices, child. Though I hope, at the very least, your time together was enjoyable.” Nyx stood at his side, pretending to look at the black hole as well. Kindly refusing to comment on the scrunched up look on Zagreus’ face, as he attempted to get himself together.

“It was,” he said thickly, managing to smooth his face back out once and for all. “I have her comm frequency, we talk every night. Father can’t hide us from each other any more.”

“Then I am glad of this as well,” Nyx’s hand carded softly through his hair once, the way she used to do when he was younger. The thick, wiry strands of Zagreus’ hair sprang back into disarray the moment her hand passed through. He had long since given up on forcing them to conform to the standard haircut, just one more instance in a long line of failures towards the Vulcan ideal.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment more, while she allowed Zagreus time to collect himself. “Come,” She beckoned once more, when he had wrested his mental state back to that smooth calmness. “Let me show you to your new post.”

Hades had likely placed Zagreus in the shipping and receiving room as punishment. Though of course, being Hades, it also served towards multiple effects. The location was one of the busier ones in the entire station. Shipping and receiving did not merely mean packages, it meant customs, it meant seizing contraband, it meant docking permissions. Managing the ebb and flow of all the ships dared request entry into their little slice of paradise.

The offices were chaotic, disorganized and understaffed. Zagreus had been tasked with the lowliest of duties, but knowing Hades, would be talked to as if he were responsible for everyone else’s personal choices. “Unfortunately we do not possess an abundance of personnel for this department, despite the demand.” Nyx informed him, sweeping past desk upon desk piled high with unidentifiable junk, all of them empty and unoccupied. “You will be the sole employee sorting and disposing of any contraband confiscated from trading ships, should they refuse or find themselves unable to take care of it on their own. I am afraid there is a rather large backlog for you to work through.”

“Wonderful,” Zagreus said, maintaining an even tone with only mild effort. Casting a curious eye at the vast, unending mountains of trash that surrounded them. Trash that, for some reason, his father insisted on having cataloged and accounted for before being incinerated. Triple indexed and sent in quarterly reports to the trading federation back home.

“There are only two other personnel assigned to this department. Though you will find some familiar faces in time. Charon is not formally employed by the station, but makes frequent stops here, should you be interested in greeting him.” Nyx said, heading deeper into the bowels of the endless maze of garbage, leaving Zagreus struggling to catch up. He skirted around what looked like an entire, stuffed and mounted Cocytan Beast, it’s stinger serving as a coat rack for an array of colorful scarves.

“Charon is here? Well that is a pleasant surprise at least.” Zagreus gave a slightly wider than polite smile, recalling how much his father seemed to despise Nyx’s eldest. The man was absolutely inscrutable, and silent as the grave. Zagreus had yet to figure out what species Nyx had been embodying when she conceived him, or if Charon even possessed the power of speech to answer such a question himself.

“He charters his own vehicle, and often brings passengers here to this sector. In addition, he is usually the party we go through to obtain additional supplies.” Ah, smuggling. Father undoubtedly hated that such a low brow activity was taking place under his command. And hated even more that it was probably necessary and indispensable. The passage of necessary items to the outer sectors could take weeks and months through official means. Hades would have had to turn a blind eye or let everyone aboard go without trifles and food alike. Zagreus silently vowed to help Charon smuggle as many objects as he desired into the station, if only out of spite.

The maze of trash finally dwindled down once again, into a proper path. Another exit into the concourse, on the opposite side Hades had greeted them from, customs and immigrations. The hectic rush of arrivals that had occurred in the peak time Zagreus had disembarked was gone, leaving a rather empty hall populated only by lingering travelers, waiting for their connections.

Nyx, usually composed beyond measure, let out an aggrieved little sigh at the sight that waited for them at the customs desk. A large mass of blankets was slumped over the counter, rising and falling minutely, like the breathing of a great beast. “Hypnos,” She intoned sternly, standing before the mass, which remained unmoved.

“ _Hypnos,_ ” She repeated, her dark pupils narrowing in concentration. Reaching out to that unfortunate soul through means Zagreus could not sense.

“ _Mrrghhh?_ ” Came the sleepy noise from within the pile, that shifted and shimmied forward until a head of small, fly-away curls poked out from beneath the folds, emerging from their cave. “Oh, morning mom,” A thin rather lipless mouth curled into a smile, joined by a spidery looking hand. Zagreus watched with apprehension as more and more limb emerged from the blankets. Until a rather gangly collection of them sat perched upon that stool, blankets draped around his waist. “It is evening,” Nyx said flatly. “Please pay more attention towards your duties Hypnos.” The limb pile shifted forward, resting its sharp thin, face in its cupped hands. Hypnos, yawned broadly, nodding once or twice, a sea of white curls bobbing with the motion.

“Hypnos,” Zagreus cut in without thinking about it. “Is this your other son?” Both of those similarly sharp faces turned to look at him in unison. Zagreus could see then the vague resemblance in their aristocratic noses, the curve of their chins, though the similarities mostly stopped there. Where Nyx was tall, and haughty, beautiful the way a marble statue might be. Hypnos looked rather stretched out, the narrowness of his limbs making him look odd rather than elegant. Zagreus could just barely see the similar darkness in Hypnos’ pupil, half lidded still.

“Yes, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Hypnos,” Nyx said, with the same level of enthusiasm she had shown Zagreus his keypad code. “Hypnos, I believe I have informed you of Zagreus’ arrival. I have been providing him with a tour of the facilities, as well as your shared workspace. Tomorrow he will report here for the indefinite future. You and Skelly are to brief him on your combined duties.”

“I thought you said you were busy today?” Hypnos asked, an odd note of something in his reedy voice that Zagreus couldn’t comprehend. “I was busy with Zagreus.” Nyx said serenely, ushering Zag forward with another push from her hand. “I trust you will be present to guide him on your next shift.”

Zagreus was frog marched closer, watching with mild panic as Nyx began to take her leave without motioning for him to follow. “I will let you both make your acquaintance. It was a pleasure to see you again Zagreus.”

Zagreus curled his hands tightly around the lip of the customs desk. Watching Nyx stalk down the halls with her usual icy grace, feeling like he had stumbled yet again onto some sort of layered familial drama. Only it didn’t even have the benefit of being his this time.

“So, Zagreus,” Hypnos intoned, something altogether different, but no less inscrutable in his tone. When he turned to look back at his new co-worker, Zagreus found himself lost, fumbling for words, at the nearness of Hypnos’ face, mere inches from his own.

Those eyes were open now, the same betazoid black as his parent. Zagreus, stuttered, cut-off words that barely left his lips, feeling an overwhelming rush of something new and foreign brushing against his mind. “Empath?” He eked out dumbly.

The inky slate of Hypnos’ pupils consumed his surroundings again, unable to look away. The same inscrutable darkness as the black hole outside of Zagreus' window. Swallowing all light with such ferocity that it’s circumference seemed to luminescence in contrast. That touch brushed against his mind again, indelicately, as if seeking to bruise what it found.

“ _Mmhhmm_ , Boy you’re an anxious one aren’t you.” Hypnos laughed, snorting a little, the curve of his mouth tilted into something indulgent or mocking, which Zagreus couldn’t narrow down. Zagreus felt the cold chill of disappointment and the hot, burning flash of annoyance, not in control at the least. “That’s a foreign emotion. There is nothing to fear here, it would be -“

“Oop, there it is, now you’re angry. You’re really got layers don’t you Zagreus? Nyx didn’t tell me that about you, and she talks about you, a lot.” Hypnos blinked at him owlishly, cutting off their eye contact for a second. The reprieve Zagreus needed to make his clumsy escape. “I have to go,” He mumbled, stumbling away from the desk in a jerky scramble. Feeling itchy and hot for no particular reason, the inky blackness of Hypnos’ strange eyes and his odd smile following him all the way back to his room.

Zagreus had only been aboard the underworld for less than a month, and it was already going more poorly than he could have ever anticipated.

His duties were as mindless as they were menial. The kind of drudgery that made the hours crawl by with unending slowness. He sorted and cataloged more pieces of odds and ends than any being would have time to collect throughout several lifetimes. Most of them seized for petty violations under Hades’ strict interpretations of trade federation regulations.

The first two days, he had moved with single minded intensity, determined to prove a point to his father, and rise above his station. By the fourth day - after Skelly had shown him the three, additional back rooms containing more garbage to be tagged and disposed of - he had given the cause up for a loss. And resigned himself to his fathers fury.

Hades did not pass up the opportunity to be disappointed, it had been only three weeks since he arrived. Yet Zagreus had already been reprimanded and written up for everything from ‘refraining to attend to his duties on time’ (by being two minutes late to his shift), to ‘incinerating hazardous materials with reckless impunity’. His father had predictably been saving the loss of his laurels to pull out at an opportune moment. A dressing down that he had delivered in full view of multiple crew members. In short, business as usual.

Zagreus had experienced Hades’ disapproval previously, and likely would continue to do so. He could manage on his own, though he did not have to do so any longer at least. Nyx had taken to running interference on his behalf, heading off his father with a polite inquiry every so often. Diverting his ire onto another hapless soul before he could slow down Zagreus’ already considerably diminished progress even further with his lectures.

Nyx had looked after him in such a manner for as long as Zagreus could remember, caring in her own, rather distant way. He had always thought of Nyx as a rather maternal figure. Her temperament could not be one that most would consider warm, but you could see her affections through her actions, if not by her words.

She and Charon had a rather cool relationship, last Zagreus had seen; but he had rather optimistically attributed it to personal preference on both their ends. The same argument could not be made with Hypnos.

Zagreus’ instincts had been unfortunately correct. He seemed to have very much stepped into some sort of familial tiff, despite barely being able to handle his own. Nyx would often provide him assistance in the same breath that she would gently scold Hypnos, a comparison that made him squirm with discomfort each time it occurred.

Hypnos in turn, could almost be said to be taking it well, completely oblivious to their disparity in treatment. Had it not been for his rather unfortunate habit of announcing to the world at large the full gamut of Zagreus’ emotion each time they crossed paths. Zagreus felt unsettled, scraped raw each time it happened. That sleepy face lighting up with quiet glee as he rattled off that cycle of anxiety, anger, the latent shame that those existed within him in such large quantities in the first place.

Zagreus had resigned himself to being a poor excuse for a Vulcan long ago, but found that he might still have had some dregs of self respect to mourn. For all the things he buried deep, now dredged up into the light, that Hypnos could sense by mere proximity.

Zagreus’ sole cold comfort being that Hypnos seemed to be an exceptionally skilled empath, and he was by no means his sole victim. The hapless travelers at the customs desk would often have to sit through a detailed reading of their emotional state, before they could proceed with their business. A strange sort of tic he seemed to have embraced, in order to avoid being overwhelmed from what he could sense from others.

Though it did seem that their human compatriots took it in much better stride than his. Achilles had come down to visit Zagreus once, after having been reassigned to security. Greeted at the desk by one of Hypnos’ long inquisitive looks, before he had loudly proclaimed: ‘ _Wow, you’re a lot more depressed than Pat made you sound._ ’

His mentor had frozen, much like Zagreus did still, but only for a moment. Before giving a soft laugh and a shrug, moving on with his day without much trouble. Zagreus had tried to imitate that cool nonchalance, but found himself rankled still. A Pavlovian chill of dread racing up his spine when he met those dark eyes.

There did seem to be a few crew members who did not cherish this habit or ability. Zagreus suspected it was half the reason the department was so scarce to begin with. Though few seemed to hold the habit in greater disdain more than Hypnos’ own twin.

Thanatos, Nyx’s other child. Another half betazoid whose telepathic abilities Hades greatly prized; as much as he seemed to be discomfited by Hypnos’ empathic ones. If there was one, sole benefit to hanging around the customs desk, it was that his father rarely ventured there. Knowing he had not yet successfully cowed Hypnos into not launching into a detailed overview of whatever remnants of emotion still rattled around in his soul.

“It’s almost impressive,” He had commented to Thanatos, while gearing up for their sparring practice in the exercise deck. “How Hypnos has even rendered father inconvenienced enough that he rarely braves the thought of going down there.”

“Yes,” Thanatos had commented, looking none too pleased at that specific application of Hypnos’ talents. “I suspect he’s taken to obtaining a rather perverse delight in being able to drive away even the Captain.”

The Captain. Zagreus could see the capital letters when Thanatos spoke, perfectly enunciated, reverence benefiting the station. Thanatos had always been punctual, detail oriented, precise and measured in a way that could measure up to Hades’ Vulcan sensibilities even when few others could. Zagreus had never been able to achieve it. It was a special kind of blow when your ex-boyfriend turned into the prodigal son.

Zagreus channeled the niggling doubt that occurrence always filled him with into their first blow. Starting their match.

He jumped into the offense immediately, bolstered by months of Achilles’ tutelage. Thanatos dodging and weaving around him with the easy grace he had inherited from Nyx, not a hair out of place. Zagreus railed against him furiously, forgetting to check the rather smug grin on his face.

“Control yourself Zagreus, being erratic only provides me with an advantage.” Thanatos reminded him placidly, blocking his strikes with cool efficiency. More Vulcan than Zagreus had ever been without trying. A line of sweat dripped down his neck into the hollow of his collarbone; his elegant, handsome face barely flushing with effort.

Something within Zagreus reared its head in that moment, something secret and ugly that he did not bother to push down. He pressed forward for the advantage, not bothering to curb his enthusiasm, barely bothering to hold back his blows. He forced Thanatos further back, that pretty, placid expression more lively with effort than it had ever been in the times they had been together.

A sweeping kick and it was over for good, Thanatos’ squirming body was pinned to the mat for the requisite five seconds, held in place by Zagreus. When he drew back, it was with a hot rush of triumph, for being able to prove he could still beat Thanatos in this area, no matter how he excelled everywhere else.

Thanatos was at least a gracious loser for the most part, getting up without much fuss. Zagreus felt buoyed by the victory for at least a second, until Thanatos brought him crashing back down with a single comment. “You’re improving at that, though it seems like you’re getting worse at purging yourself of emotion.”

The observation washed over him like a bucket of cold water. Smile freezing on his face for a second, before making it a point to return, wider than before. “I believe I’ve resigned myself to being the worst Vulcan in existence. I’m afraid it’s a lost cause at this point.” He commented jovially, hoping Thanatos would let the subject drop.

No such luck. “It would give Hades less ammunition against you Zagreus, it would be easier on you both if you-”

“Than,” Zagreus interrupted, knowing it was well intentioned, but not being able to stomach the lecture just now. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask to skip the advice this time. At least just this once.”

Thanatos blinked at him, resembling Hypnos for just a moment, that intense stare one of the few things shared across both their features. “Is this because of your mother?”

Zagreus grimaced, feeling another wave of roiling emotion, that he couldn’t begin to unpick and identify even if his life depended on it. Ill practiced at letting himself feel despite his recent promise to his mother to stop suppressing his emotions as often. “Something like that.”

Thanatos opened his mouth, perhaps to make additional inquiries, but was hard pressed to get any of them out. As Zagreus made his excuses and beat a hasty retreat out of the training room. Finding he wasn’t quite ready to have this conversation, and with Thanatos least of all.

 _It’s nothing personal._ Zagreus had thought to himself, wandering the hallways on auto-pilot. Absorbed in his thoughts. He had only caved to his mother’s encouragement to try and see what it would be like to indulge his human side more often two days ago. It was reasonable to assume he wasn’t up to discussing it yet. Least of all with Thanatos, who he still cared for, in his own way. But knew to be a horrible confidant in things that involved Hades.

He rounded the turn to the Customs desk, finding that he had come into shipping and receiving out of sheer mindless rote. He continued walking forward, thinking he could double back past the storage room towards his quarters, forgetting for one, blissful second that Hypnos was still on duty.

The mass of blankets he was always surrounded by shifted and parted, those long, skinny limbs slithering out of their cocoon. A shark scenting blood. “Hello Zagreus,” Hypnos chirped, giving him a long once over, that secret, gleeful look back on his face. “I see you were really having fun up there.” He sing-songed, dark eyes dancing with mirth, unusually coy.

Zagreus froze again, instinctively, the moment he felt that brush against his mind that meant Hypnos was rooting around in his emotions once again. Unable to curb the natural bounds of his expansive empathy. “I was sparring with Than.” He said dumbly, the ball of tangled emotion in his chest swelling once more, even harder to unpick.

“Yeah,” Hypnos drawled with another odd giggle. “I can tell.” His long, arched brows bounced once, the little smile still on his face. The bucket of cold water sensation provided by Thanatos had nothing on the sheer icy dread that statement produced in Zagreus. Knowing then in that moment, that Hypnos could feel some of the little remnants of feeling that had stuck around for Thanatos regardless of their mutually agreeable parting. “Not that I blame you. Lots of the other officers like Than,” Hypnos leaned forward in a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s really rather popular.”

“I- I don’t,” Zagreus stuttered, feeling rather overwhelmed and close to expiring from embarrassment. “Our relationship is strictly professional.” Hypnos laughed at him then, a reedy little giggle, worlds of difference from Thanatos’ smooth chuckle. “You don’t need to like him to think he’s attractive.”

“Hypnos,” Zagreus warned, not sure what he was warning against, but feeling a need to put some much needed breaks on the conversation. Hypnos’ all black eyes swallowed his objections the same way they seemed to swallow all light, crinkling at the corners with his amusement. “Do you think _I’m_ cute too Zag?”

Zagreus felt himself flush, at the bold accusation. Not knowing what to answer but feeling rather overwhelmed and overheated merely from being asked. He beat a hasty retreat for the second time in less than an hour, not even bothering to craft an excuse. Desperately throwing himself into the mountains of trash that made up the back rooms. As far away from Hypnos’ sensory range as possible.

The complicated knot of feelings weighed heavily on his chest all day, as he hid in his quarters for the rest of the evening. Though he was at least granted the privilege of a sympathetic audience.

“Well that could be a good sign my son!” Persephone chirped optimistically, her bright smile apparent even on the tiny screen of Zagreus’ personal communications terminal. “You’re starting to feel more things you’ve never felt before after only a few days of not pushing it all away.”

“I’m not sure if I could count that as a good sign mother,” Zagreus said, but smiled back at her regardless. Finding her excitement contagious, luxuriating in fact that this was someone who did not pick and choose at parts of him to find undesirable.

“Well perhaps, or perhaps not, but it makes me happy that you are giving it a try at least once Zagreus.” The little screen of his late model communicator struggled to render the lush foliage lying behind her, as she lounged in the sun. If he closed his eyes, Zagreus could picture it with near perfect accuracy. The warmth of her planet; the sharp, perfumed breeze that had swept a riot of floral scents towards them from the open doors of her greenhouse. “If it doesn’t end up being what’s best for you, that would make me happy as well. All I want is for you to be content, whether your contentment has more in common with your father’s or with mine is no matter to me.”

Zagreus re-arranged himself on the bed, meditating on the question. “I’m not sure I know what makes me content. I’m afraid I haven’t thought too deeply about it before.”

Persephone smiled at him encouragingly once more, the warm lines of her kind face slowly etching themselves into Zagreus’ memory after a lifetime apart. “You can figure it out as you go, it can be anything. It can be something, or it can be someone. Whatever makes you feel things, as long as those things are good.” She explained patiently.

Zagreus didn’t want to burst her bubble this early, and nodded without commenting. Looking out the window, thinking of how the last time he had felt anything it hadn’t gone very well at all.

The black hole loomed outside the porthole. A corona of incandescent light, slowly sucked towards the absolute darkness at its center. Dragged with no hope of escape, much like how Hypnos brought kicking and screaming what he thought buried up to the surface, whether it was happy to be witnessed not.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing fast and loose with some trek tech here;;;;
> 
> Specifically communicators and the specifics of betazoid empathy. 
> 
> Listen. my city now. I'm assuming in the future people still need to text lol

Zagreus’ first full quarter in the underworld passed by as uneventfully as his first month. Stretches of time that feel blank and endless, like the darkness outside the portholes, defined only by their drudgery.

Trying to wake up bright and early, then continually failing to do so.

Attempting to make progress on cataloging the growing piles of confiscated materials on his own; a process as effective as trying to bail out a sinking boat.

Studiously avoiding his father, when he paced the halls of the derelict station, a king among his commoners. Cape trailing behind him with the force of his self made breeze.

Or perhaps Hades had installed some small air pump, which existed purely to flutter the thing to dramatic effect. The kind of thought so childish that Zagreus knew it would have sent his father into further depths of disappointment.

He pettily considers starting a rumor about it just to make Hades’ life ever so slightly more miserable and ridiculous.

Additional off the clock, torment of his father aside, those first three things make up the bulk of Zagreus’ time at his post with few, notable highlights.

There were the calls with his mother, at least once every week. That brief hour, when he could sit with her, regardless of the time and space between them. Discovering who they both were in relation to each other. It reminds him of Physics lectures he still barely understands, two atoms vibrating in the same frequency. So perfectly aligned that it leaves the center of mass undisturbed.

Finding his mother felt like that. A ripple growing into a shock wave that aligned their paths, but left the rest of his life structurally unchanged. Zagreus marches on, at his own dissonant tempo, with the one person who might understand him light years away.

Unfortunately, understanding is a bit of a one way street at the moment. Zagreus still finds her thought processes alien and impregnable, a philosophy so simple it looped back around and became complex.

Persephone just wanted to be _nice_.

Which Zagreus felt was a bit lacking as a word, but had not been able to find a better fit. Persephone loved to talk about her plants, and her work, and the other horticulturists she performed research with. Her tanned, expressive face lit up with joy at all kinds of things, as she animatedly told him about this and that.

Persephone was full of more vivacity that Zagreus could have conceived given ten lifetimes. She shared that joy with him like it wasn’t a precious thing. As if he didn’t need to try and earn her affection or her respect, because she thought he deserved them no matter the circumstances. A depressingly novel concept.

But a good thing.

Always a good thing to hear from her. To see her smiling face on the viewscreen of his communication device. Propped up on the shelf next to his bed so they could talk until they were both nearly falling asleep.

That had been a good highlight, no matter what else this change to his life had brought.

Those other, slightly more questionable highlights, Zagreus was still trying to figure out.

The lingering mysteries about what actually went on in shipping and receiving for example.

Zagreus had yet to figure out what Skelly actually _did_ for one. When he wasn’t helping Zagreus fire up their outdated bio-matter resequencer, Skelly tended to disappear into the back rooms with a jaunty ‘ _See you later boyo’_ not to be seen again for the rest of their shift.

In theory, he was in charge of what ships docked when and where in the station. In practice, the whole thing was a chaotic mess that seemed to occur with or without his approval, as Skelly was rarely at the communications booth.

Zagreus strongly suspected that it was tied to the contraband that Charon somehow smuggled aboard the station, but had been unable to prove it. The puzzling inconsistencies in Skelly’s work - and the fact he hadn’t been fired for it at all by their notoriously uptight Capitan - niggled at the back of Zagreus’ mind, taking up more space in his thoughts than his actual job ever did.

Not that his day to day performance mattered overmuch, having no actual supervisor. The rooms that stored all the ‘contraband’ rarely had any visitors. Most employees seemed to avoid their department like the plague and even Hades himself had given up all pretense of monitoring his work.

As a result Zagreus was free to spend countless hours slacking off on his own. His only witnesses the towering stacks of miscellaneous clutter that defined his workspace.

What once would have been been a spacious room had been transformed into a demented curio shop. Zagreus had found invaluable items housed next to cheap-knock offs, left to rot in haphazard piles. Dented tricorders and bolts of fabric sitting atop a case of Romulan Whiskey. A still functioning cloaking device, buried behind multiple crates of novelty drinking glasses.

Sunken treasures in a sea of garbage that went on as far as the eye could see.

Zagreus wondered if the irony of hiding him away amongst piles of trash was lost on his father. Or if that had been the sole reason he was put there in the first place. Left to languish with the other, unlucky beings that earned his disdain.

Skelly, who Hades seemed to dislike immensely, but kept around for some obscure reason; and Hypnos, whose invasive talents rattled even the notoriously unflappable captain.

The three of them existed in their own little refuge away from everyone else. Hades’ island of misfit toys, shoved away into a dark corner where they wouldn’t taint the beautiful, orderly system he had set up in other departments.

* * *

Zagreus had gotten a little too comfortable with the idea of never having visitors.

It’s a day as boring as any other, and the grating monotony of it all makes his patience run out faster than the clock.

He tries to swallow that hot, burning feeling in the back of his throat. The one that always rears its head when he thinks for too long about how he’s been sent to waste his time here, day in and day out. Just so his father won't have to put up with the misfortune of having to look his mistake in the eye more often than strictly necessary. The indignation stews and simmers in the back of his mind, and he lets it, growing increasingly content with the idea of being a horrible disgrace of a Vulcan as time goes on.

Instead of working, he decides to while away the evening, hunting for the few interesting things still buried in his cave of disappointing wonders, not bothering to catalogue any of it.

Like that Klingon bat'leth he had found last week. Wicked and shining, so polished he could see the blurred outline of his reflection on the blade. That item had been _conveniently_ misplaced from the pile of things sent to the resequencer, and now hung on Zagreus’ wall. Waiting until the day he could convince Achilles to teach him how to use it.

He has no such luck this time. Only an hour left in his shift, and Zagreus is still absorbed trying to ferret out at least one thing worth the effort of stealing. Too wrapped up in his task to notice the soft beeps that heralds the door to the customs desk sliding open.

When he does notice his company, it’s not because he hears them or because he sees them. But because he feels them.

That uncomfortable, pins and needles sensation that raises his hackles before he even thinks about it. The mental equivalent of seeing a shark fin in open waters, that sets his stomach into flips before he can even think to calm himself.

“Hey Zag,” Hypnos’ voice is thin and reedy like the rest of him. He doesn’t walk so much as slide forward, a gliding shuffle, his legs obscured by the long comforter that drapes around him like a shawl. Zagreus watches him come closer with growing apprehension.

Hypnos picks his way over the piles of garbage in jerky fits and starts, a broken wind-up doll in their island of misfit toys, unaffected by his panic.

“Everything’s pretty slow today. So I thought I’d stop by to say hello, see what could possibly take up so much of your time back here!” Hypnos smiles beatifically, slumping down into the nearest, softest looking pile. A nest of Bajoran tapestries and lavishly embroidered pillows; set atop some other miscellaneous objects that scatter as soon as he slumps down upon them.

Zagreus stutters for no good reason, caught off guard, as always, by the knowledge Hypnos can read him like an open book any time he desires. “I’m just, working, as you well know, on some of father’s ridiculous items.” He sweeps a hand out to gesture to his mountain of useless treasures. Smacking his wrist against what might be some sort of decorative Ferengi goblet, sending it tumbling to the ground at Hypnos’ feet.

“How are you,” He follows up lamely.

Hypnos giggles at his mistake, a pitchy sound hidden behind his hand that ties Zagreus’ stomach into knots.

He gets the distinct impression he’s probably getting made fun of.

But he has no idea how, or for what.

“I’m alright,” Hypnos says once his laughter subsides, the words distorted by a wide yawn as he nestles deeper into his impromptu seat.

“Good,” Zagreus returns, hands behind his back. Trying to concentrate fully on not feeling anything at all, and finding that all that remains is a vague, formless panic. Hypnos’ presence still lays over his mind, like a tangible weight, making him hyper-aware aware of his every emotion. “That’s good,” He continues, for no reason other than to fill the silence.

Hypnos’ sleepy, half lidded stare pins him place as if it were a tangible force. “Wow, you really are nervous one aren’t you? I can feel you getting all worked up the moment I get close. Isn’t that something!”

His eyes peel open a little further, twin voids that eclipse the rest of Zagreus’ vision. Distantly, he sees Hypnos’ mouth curl into a lopsided smile. “Is it the station? I can tell you what I tell all the folks I sign in, if it helps!”

Hypnos leans forward, and Zagreus bravely resists the urge to lean back, away from this creature invading his mind and his space.

“The underworld is perfectly safe! It’s historic halls have been refurbished and equipped with all the modern comforts you might need while you enjoy your stay! All of its structures and supports meet the requisite regulations, with any adjoining black holes safely suppressed by patented federation technology. If you have any questions or concerns, I would be happy to refer you to the appropriate customer service bureau.” The practiced recitation trips off of Hypnos’ tongue in a sing-song voice.

Zagreus is almost charmed despite himself. Caught between amusement at his ridiculous jingle and the apprehension he always feels in Hypnos’ presence. “No, no, it’s not the station.”

Hypnos makes an inquisitive noise, limb shifting beneath his mountainous comforter as he repositions himself. A non-threatening, soft looking shape that still, for some reason, stands all of Zagreus’ hairs on end. “I just-”

Zagreus tracks the movement of Hypnos’ hand with the tenseness of a consummate prey animal. Follows the way it curls around the edges of his comforter; long and frail-looking against the vibrant red of the fabric.

“It’s,-” His tongue trips over itself. The presence of Hypnos in his mind becomes more jarring and oppressive; Zagreus feels suffocated under an amusement that he knows isn’t his.

He tries to find a polite explanation for how terrifyingly invasive he finds his empathic range. There is almost certainly no nice way to do so, to admit he finds it impossible to relax whenever Hypnos is nearby.

He feels tongue tied, palms sweating and unable to gather his thoughts. Mind blanking the longer he stares dumbly at Hypnos. At the dimples that bracket the indulgent curve of his mouth, smiling mockingly up at Zagreus.

Hypnos must get tired of waiting, since there is that bump again. That nails on a chalkboard sensation that means his presence is no longer passively watching, but actively investigating.

Hypnos may not be as talented a telepathy as Thanatos, but it doesn’t take a genius to puzzle out Zagreus’ thoughts.

A miasma of embarrassment solidifies in Zagreus’ chest the moment he feels Hypnos get to the root of his anxiety, heavy as a leaden weight. He waits for the return of that foreign amusement, delighting at his own expense. At the fact that it takes Hypnos two seconds to puzzle out feelings that might take Zagreus days of contemplation.

It doesn’t come.

Hypnos closes his eyes with a sleepy blink, half-lidded again, no longer an intense presence rooting through his every thought and feeling. A slight frown maring his usual placid expression.

“Well that won’t do,” Hypnos shakes his head with a sigh - a sea white curls bouncing with the motion - before he unfolds. Looming over Zagreus with the statuesque height he’s inherited from Nyx. “We’re supposed to work together after all.”

That thin, spidery hand slides out from his heaps of fabric, palm up and open. “Can I have your communicator?”

It doesn't feel like a question.

Zagreus fumbles to hand it over before he can even think about the option of politely refusing. Still reeling from that jarring scrape that is Hypnos’ mind against his. A sensation foreign enough that it blocks out his every thought, caught up in the dizzying press of a sixth sense he shouldn’t have.

He watches, barely processing the actions, how Hypnos enters a new frequency into his communicator before handing it back. “There you go!” He says brightly, with a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “I think it would help if we got to know each other a little more Zagreus.”

Hypnos gathers himself and his fabrics, meandering back to the customs desk at his own, sedate pace “Message me sometime!”

Zagreus nods reflexively at the request, agreeing with an empty room. Hypnos already having slipped out the door, likely back to napping at his post.

The new frequency lingers tantalizingly in his communicator.

Zagreus opens and closes the channel enough times for it to become its own kind of habit. Still too unsettled to reach out - despite the invitation - without having an objective more concrete than ‘get to know Hypnos at some point’. The longer he puts it off, the more the odd anxiety grows, until his stomach roils and rebels at the barest sight of Hypnos in the distance.

Zagreus has always prided himself on being a rather direct person. I feels a bit foolish, to not tell people what he thinks and feels, hoping that a solution might magically fall into his lap at some point with no effort.

But of course, Hypnos throws his usual approach out the window. Leaving him unable to say his piece before it’s being recited aloud on his behalf. Divorced from its context and twice as embarrassing for it.

Logically, there’s no way for this to happen through a different, non presential medium of communication. Yet every prior experience with Hypnos hangs over his head, haunting him until he loses his resolve.

He takes to avoiding the customs desk as studiously as he does his father while he works up the courage.

When Zagreus finally makes good on his promise he’s driven not by newfound confidence, but instead by his now constant companion: endless ennui.

**Zagreus: Hello, I thought I would return the favor, and check on you this time. How is customs today?**

It’s succinct, to the point and perfectly innocuous. A casual message that hopefully doesn’t betray how frazzled the prospect had him.

He types it up quickly and sends it off before he can think too deeply about the whole thing. Trying very hard to pretend he has anything better to do than send a message he’s been procrastinating on for days on end.

The tangle of feelings that lives in his chest - now that he’s stopped suppressing them - gives a swooping jerk at the sight of a return message.

**Hypnos: I was taking a nap and I just woke up :)**

The response nearly makes him abort the metaphorical mission then and there, but Zagreus pushes on through. Determined to least apologize for interrupting Hypnos’ rest before proceeding to ghost him until the end of time.

**Zagreus: I’m very sorry, I hope that my message didn’t wake you up.**

**Hypnos: Oh no no no, you don’t need to apologize! Than would probably thank you if he knew! He says I sleep too much as it is haha.**

**Zagreus: Well Than can’t really criticize anyone for being too excessive, that would be a bit hypocritical of him. Does he still organize his closet by color and type, in that order? Zagreus: In any case. There’s nothing wrong with resting if you’re tired.**

**Hypnos: Oh, I’m not really that tired most of the time! Everyone else’s feelings just get pretty overwhelming after a while! It tends to just knock me out :)**

Zagreus instantly feels like an inconsiderate bastard. He’d been so caught up in how Hypnos’ empathy made him feel that he failed to consider how the other might be affected by such an unending stream of constant information.

Zagreus’ paltry, stunted emotions must only be a drop in the bucket of what Hypnos feels every day and every hour. It’s an oddly comforting thought.

**Zagreus: I’m sorry to hear that it can get that intense for you. I doubt there’s anything I can do, but if there is, please let me know.**

He doesn’t get a response to his latest message, but Zagreus is happy to put it out of his mind, markedly calmer after that revelation. He’s even confident enough to brave the customs desk before he leaves for the day. Finding Hypnos slumped over his desk, soundly asleep. Message still unread.

Zagreus watches Hypnos for a moment. Oddly amused at the sight of him, cheek squished against the surface of his workspace, half of his comforter slipping off and puddling on the floor. Quite possibly one of the least intimidating sights in the universe, despite the trepidation he inspires from most of the crew.

Zagreus takes a moment to re-adjust the comforter, draping it back around Hypnos’ shoulders before he heads out.

* * *

It turns out that Hypnos is much easier to speak to when they’re not in the same room.

Zagreus expects to talk with him once or twice, long enough to move past that uncomfortable association brought on by their first couple of interactions, and nothing more.

Instead, talking with Hypnos ends up as the one activity that fills most of his time. They trade stories and the occasional complaint, well past the time Zagreus should have gone to bed, reluctant to end their conversation just yet.

He accrues quite a large roster of Hypnos specific facts and figures. Little details that wallpaper the inside of Zagreus’ mind, preoccupied with thoughts of his co-worker still, though in a slightly different capacity.

He learns that Hypnos means most of the things he says sincerely, even if they do sound sarcastic. His fingers are constantly freezing due to poor circulation. He insists that replicator food tastes slightly metallic and occasionally drools in his sleep.

Zagreus suspects that last one isn’t meant to be endearing, but he can’t help but be a little charmed by it regardless.

If only because of the way it means Hypnos is actually deeply asleep, not just overwhelmed enough to pass out for a little bit. Face pressing into the folds of his comforter heavily enough so that by the time he wakes up, the creases will have imprinted themselves on his cheek.

Knowing these things about Hypnos is very helpful in the context of feeling nervous due to his abilities. It’s still a bit unsettling to have his feelings rattled off in ways Zagreus can barely begin to define and identify himself, but it’s a learning experience, if nothing else. A trial by fire that he’s prepared to tackle, if not succeed at. Secure in the knowledge that Hypnos may be a little blunt, but he’s not being intentionally callous, only accidentally so.

On the other hand, getting to know Hypnos has opened an entirely new avenue of nervous contexts, about as welcome as the first.

Which is to say, not very much at all.

Zagreus had optimistically assumed that their growing friendship might mean that Hypnos would be less likely to enjoy his fluster. Sadly not the case.

If anything, he takes the fact that Zagreus no longer runs away at the sight of him to do it more. Comments and observations that leave him tongue tied and stuttering in his presence, a different kind of nerves. Zagreus isn’t quite ready to unpack those yet.

Not if he has any say about it, in any case, despite the fact that Hypnos doesn’t seem to have the same level of patience. Poking and prodding him down conversational avenues until he realizes all too late, he has walked into a new trap.

The only upside is that at least these conversations happen late in the evening turned early morning, in the privacy of his own room. Since Hypnos happens to be a bit of a night-owl, due to all his day time napping.

Zagreus answers the messages half-asleep, too stubborn to stubborn to succumb to exhaustion until they’ve finished their conversation. He squints blearily at his latest message, words fuzzing slightly in the dark of his room.

**Hypnos: No Dusa definitely has a crush on Meg! You can tell :)**

**Zagreus: Well then I’ll take your word for it, even if Dusa insists she doesn’t. I’ve never claimed to be any sort of relationship expert.**

**Hypnos: Oh, I don’t think you need to be one to tell when people like someone; It’s pretty easy! Dusa used to have a crush on you too, even if she likes Meg more!**

**Zagreus: I think that’s definite proof that it’s easier for you than most to pick those things out. I never even knew until she told me.**

**Hypnos: Wow, haha, you really do have no clue about that stuff sometimes, don’t you? Didn’t you think she was cute?**

Zagreus puts his communicator down the moment the message comes through. That little nervousness rising in the pit of his stomach. A second message arrives before he’s had time to collect himself.

**Hypnos: Who do you think is cute then? :)**

Zagreus resists the urge to bury his face into his pillow until he succumbs to sleep. That tangle of feelings around his chest winding tighter and tighter, hopelessly knotted and impossible to unpick in between all the embarrassment.

**Zagreus: I’m beginning to think you get a criminal level of enjoyment from asking rhetorical questions.**

Zagreus taps his fingers idly on the case of his communicator, little ticks of sound accompanied by the backbeat of their life support. That tell tale hum that hangs around the vents in every starship and station.

He matches his breaths to those rattling ex-vents, trying for calm before he sends his last message. Feeling more impulsive than usual in the dark, where no one else can see him flounder.

**Zagreus: In any case, though you well know by now. I happen to find a lot of people attractive. Than is. So is Meg. So are you.**

He resolutely places his communicator face down on that little shelf next to his bed as soon as it’s done. Comfortably procrastinating Hypnos’ response until tomorrow.

It’s the first thing he checks the next morning, before he’s even crawled out of bed.

**Hypnos: :)**

Zagreus huffs out a laugh, reluctantly amused despite himself. Despite the fact that messaging had been his idea in the first place; Hypnos can be a startlingly underwhelming conversational partner via text. A message like that could be because he thought that response was somehow sufficiently self explanatory, because he got distracted, or simply because he’d also fallen asleep, forgetting to add to his reply.

The little nervousness that lives in the pit of Zagreus’ stomach flutters again, warmer this time.

* * *

It’s not even been a full three months since Zagreus stopped trying to suppress his emotions, but he likes to think he’s made some healthy progress in this journey of self discovery.

He can reliably tell the difference between some of the finer details that troubled him before. The tangle of feelings in his chest unwinding little by little, slowly but surely understood.

Some things are easier than others. The feelings he has for his mother are blissfully simple. There is affection, and sometimes, a little pinch of uncomfortable sadness, for all the time lost between them. Her presence, even through a small screen, feels as fresh and welcome as the cool breeze he can see sweep through her garden in the foreground; rocking the long stalks of wheats in a hypnotic sway.

Other feelings are complex still.

Zagreus doesn’t quite know in full what emotions he harbors towards his father. He only knows that they are many, and often in direct opposition to each other. Bubbling hot in his chest where he once used to keep shame. He leaves those for later, perhaps when he has more experience under his belt.

Nyx is someone he did not expect to be complex, but turns equally twisted and tangled the more time goes on, the closer he grows to Hypnos. The more certain things come to light.

Always at night, and never face to face.

**Hypnos: Well, uh, if I’m being honest, that’s not exactly wrong… I probably could have tried a little harder, when you first got here, to ignore your feelings. :(**

Zagreus doesn’t need great emotional acumen to grasp that whatever this emotion is, it’s not great. A slicing, sinking feeling, like cold, in the middle of his chest. He doesn’t have much time to marinate in it before a deluge of messages arrive, one after the other, buzzing loudly in the silence of his room.

**Hypnos: That probably didn’t sound good….I’m sorry :(**

**Hypnos: I was just curious about why my mom talked about you so often!**

**Hypnos: I wondered why she was always around you, when she’s so busy all the time haha!**

**Hypnos: I know you told me it has to do with _your_ mom, so that makes sense.**

**Hypnos: …Are you mad?**

Zagreus isn’t cold hearted enough to leave him hanging, or give Hypnos the impression that he’s ruined their friendship. He sends a quick reply for reassurance, while he goes about the painstaking process of detangling his own thoughts.

**Zagreus: No. Just thinking.**

When he follows back up - nearly an hour later - he’s resigned himself to no sleep for the rest of that night. Planning to take a page out of Hypnos’ book and take an illicit nap in some dark corner of their workspace.

**Zagreus: I can’t say I didn’t suspect at least a little resentment on your part at times.**

**Zagreus: Not that I blame you.**

**Zagreus: Family stuff can be hard.**

The reply is nearly instant. Communicator buzzing away in his hand the moment he’s finished typing.

**Hypnos: I’m still really sorry :( I promise I do my best not to look now!**

**Zagreus: No need to worry about it Hypnos. :) I won’t pretend to understand your situation, but I’m sorry for whatever part I may have inadvertently played in it.**

**Zagreus: In the event that you appreciate this kind of offer more than Than, I’m available for a hug, anytime you would like one.**

**Hypnos: Oh, hahaha, well I appreciate it, but I probably can’t! Touch usually just starts a feedback loop, so I do my best not to get close to anyone!**

The conversation moves on after that, but Hypnos’ message sticks in Zagreus’ mind. A lingering thought for the rest of the day, as he mechanically sorts through piles of useless garbage and tosses them into the bio-matter resequencer.

He thinks of Hypnos, huddled under a pile of blankets wherever he goes, hands fisted in the sheets. The way he constantly tips into everyone’s space, uncomfortably close despite the fact he never reaches out to touch. How he walks on the fringes of crowds wherever he goes with an odd lilting gait, avoiding the press of other bodies.

Zagreus realizes, with an uncomfortable pang, he has never seen Hypnos touch anyone other than Nyx before; who rarely seems to visit.

Hypnos has become an emotion that is simple and complicated all at once.

Like theoretical physics, he exists as a vague concept Zagreus can't quite grasp, despite constant repetition. Inside his head, away from prying eyes, Hypnos breaks the law of conservation of mass more readily than the replicator ever could. Creating something from nothing, over and over again, growing the tangle of feelings inside his chest at an exponential rate.

**Author's Note:**

> I know that trill are usually the ones with the symbiots but uhh idk. This ones is built different. This slug was trucking and fucking across the galaxy and I'm so happy for her


End file.
